


i don't want that (no not for you)

by HaleyElizabeth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angry teenage werewolf/human porn, Angry!sex, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Bottom!Stiles, First Time, It's porn, M/M, Mild Fingering, Okay just porn, Rimjobs, top!scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaleyElizabeth/pseuds/HaleyElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott finds his first real werewolf friend in Isaac. Stiles, Lydia, and Allison form team human. The boys spend the summer apart. Then they come together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don't want that (no not for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Just an excuse for me to write angry Sciles first time sex, nothing more, nothing less. Title taken from Say Anything by Good Charlotte. Completely unbeta'd and thrown together on Google Docs, so if there are nine hundred mistakes, my b.

“You’re not under any obligation to go.”

“I know.”

“I mean... it’s gotta be awkward. You guys aren’t even really friends any-”

“I wanna go, though. And we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

Isaac nails Scott with a look that clearly says he doesn’t believe the shit coming out of his mouth, and Scott pretends to be too busy cleaning out the dog kennels to notice.

He isn’t lying. At least, he doesn’t _think_ he’s lying. He _hopes_ he isn’t lying. He has a hard time imagining a world where Stiles Stilinski isn’t his best friend, the person he goes to for everything, his right hand, his brother.

Well, maybe not having hung out with each other since the beginning of the summer is a good indication of that kind of world. But no. No, it’s just been busy. They’ve both been busy. It’s not like they had a fight or something. It’s not like Stiles was mad at him, or avoiding him, or anything. And it wasn’t going to be awkward at all when he went over to the Stilinski house after work to hang out with him.

It’s the last Friday before the new school year, and Stiles and Scott have this tradition. The last Friday of summer, Scott goes over to Stiles’ house, and they eat as much food as they possibly can, play video games until their eyes are going to bleed, and _most importantly_ they stay up all night.

It’s been a tradition since fifth grade, and Scott isn’t going to break it now. He doesn’t have a reason to break it, anyways. Isaac is just being dumb.

“Fine, okay. You wanna go. Can I come?”

The question takes Scott off guard, and he blinks up at Isaac, head cocking to the side. The sleepovers have just been him and Stiles for as long as they’ve existed. But Isaac is his friend, too. Well, he’s both of their friend. Yeah, he’s totally Stiles’ friend. Even if they don’t hang out, you know, they’re still friends. Scott is pretty sure of that.

“Uhh. Yeah, sure, I guess. I’ll just text him and make sure.”

\----------

Stiles is hopeful that this is some kind of joke, but he’s pretty sure that it isn’t.

“What’s that face for?” Lydia questions him suddenly, peering over his shoulder to read the words displayed on his phone, not bothering to ask for permission. (When does Lydia Martin ever need permission to do anything?) When she finishes reading- or, Stiles assumes when she finishes- she makes a scathing, almost hissing noise, and shakes her head. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Allison pokes her head out of Stiles’ closet, eyebrows drawn together, one of his old tee shirts in her hands. Lydia’s been berating him about how he’s outgrown most of the things he owns, and Allison is making a point of stealing anything that doesn’t fit him anymore. She looks better in his stuff than he does, she tells him, and he can’t exactly argue.

“Your ex boyfriend is an idiot, that’s what.”

Lydia is nothing if not sensitive. Allison just rolls her eyes and ducks back into the closet.

“What did he do this time?”

“He invited _Isaac_ to their little boyfriend party.” She says the words in the same hissing tone, and Stiles huffs when he tosses his phone away from him, text going unanswered.

“It isn’t a boyfriend party.”

“Whatever.”

The room goes quiet for a minute, Lydia idly scrolling through Twitter, Allison trying on an old Superman hoodie, and Stiles tapping his fingers against his knee, glaring at the carpet.

Lydia breaks the quiet first, of course.

“So, what are you going to tell him?”

“I’m not going to tell him anything.”

“You know if you ignore him, he probably won’t show up.” Allison chimes from the closet, throwing the hoodie into her little pile of things she’s taking.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t care.”

He totally cares.

\----------

Stiles is both surprised and not surprised at all when Scott shows up exactly on time. Isaac isn’t with him.

He doesn’t have a word for the way it makes him feel when Scott knocks on the front door, instead of coming in through the window. He opens it like it isn’t a big deal, glances behind him, and then lets him in.

“You didn’t bring Isaac.”

“So, you did get my text, then.”

“Yeah. Sorry, I was busy. Allison and Lydia were over.”

“Right.”

There’s an awkward moment where they acknowledge that Scott knows Stiles wasn’t really busy, and Stiles knows Scott knows he wasn’t busy. Neither of them says anything. The moment passes slowly, like trying to walk through wet concrete, but it does pass.

“You pick up the games?”

“Yeah. They’re in the living room.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

They settle into the couch, an entire cushion between them, turn on Super Smash Bros. Brawl, and don’t say a word to each other for a few hours.

\----------

At one in the morning, Stiles punches pause on the game and tosses his controller onto the table. The suddenness of it all startles Scott, who had been more or less transfixed. He jumps, just a little, before turning his head to the side.

“What?”

“I’m tired.”

If it had been any other night... any other night, and Scott would have let it slide. People get tired. That’s part of life.

But not tonight.

“You’re _tired._ ”

“Yeah, I’m tired. It happens sometimes when you’re a human. I’m going to bed.”

Stiles gets up and starts heading out of the room. Scott stares at him, slack jawed, for ten seconds, before getting up and stomping in front of him. A hand comes down on Stiles’ chest. Not hard, but enough to stop him from getting where he’s going.

“What was the point of me coming over tonight?”

His voice sounds more aggressive than he was going for, but he’s _annoyed._ First Stiles ditches him all summer to hang out with Allison and Lydia, then he ignores his request to let Isaac come over, then he decides to go to bed at _one in the morning_ when the whole point of this damn thing is not going to sleep.

He feels like he has a right to be mad.

Stiles smacks his hand away and steps to the side. “I don’t know, why don’t you leave? I’m sure you could still catch some quality time with Isaac before the night is over.”

When he walks away this time, Scott lets him go, only because he is completely fucking _flabbergasted._ It doesn’t take long for him to follow him, though.

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” He demands when they’re both in Stiles’ room, shutting the door behind him.

Stiles, who is now taking off his clothes, just snorts, and shakes his head. “Don’t play dumb, Scott. I know it comes naturally to you and all, but it’s not attractive.”

“Stiles.”

The other boy doesn’t say anything. Shoes, socks, jeans, and shirt tossed aside, he sits down on the edge of his bed and looks at the floor. Scott shifts awkwardly on the balls of his feet, and when he doesn’t get a response, he pushes forward.

“ _Stiles._ ”

“You’ve made it pretty clear that you’d rather be spending time with him, okay? I don’t need anybody in my life that doesn’t wanna be in it. And frankly, I could use a break from saving your little werewolf ass all the time.”

Scott is pretty sure that Stiles doesn’t mean any of that, but it makes him mad anyways.

“Saving my ass all the time? _My_ ass? Are you kidding me?”

“Oh, no, you’re totally right. I’m just your human sidekick, right? The Robin to your Batman? If it weren’t for my werewolf _best friend_ , I wouldn’t even matter, isn’t that right, Scott?”

“I didn’t choose this!”

“Yeah, well, you chose Isaac!”

“You chose Allison and Lydia!”

“I needed _someone_ , and you weren’t there!”

Scott is fuming, fists clenched, eyes narrowed, staring at Stiles like he’s thinking about eating him. He can’t eat him, of course. So, he chooses the next best course of action.

He reaches down to wrap a hand around the side of Stiles’ neck, yanks him up off the bed, and kisses him, hard.

\----------

“I needed Isaac. I needed someone who understood the shifting, and... and everything that goes with it! But I never stopped caring about you.”

Stiles would respond with something about how Scott had a funny way of showing how much he cared, except he’s just been kissed, by _Scott McCall_ , and his brain is having a hard time processing that.

“Uh.”

He’s torn. He wants to keep yelling at him, because he’s _right_ , dammit, Scott totally abandoned him- but he also maybe, _possibly_ , would really like to do more of the kissing.

A moment passes in which Scott has the audacity to let his hand drop from Stiles’ neck. Kissing wins out.

Their mouth slam together hard, painful, teeth connecting in a way that isn’t romantic or sexy at all, but Stiles doesn’t care. His hands find Scott’s waist, grip hard, but Scott’s a _werewolf_ , after all- Stiles need not be gentle.

The reminder of Scott’s superior strength, of this secret thing that he shares with Isaac Lahey that Stiles isn’t a part of, makes him angrier, and his teeth sink into Scott’s lower lip as he pushes him back into the wall.

But they’re kissing. It’s weird and rough and he can taste blood- whose blood, he doesn’t know- but they’re _kissing._ He is _making out_ with Scott McCall, in his bedroom.

Scott tastes vaguely like the pizza they ate for dinner, but mostly he just tastes like skin. And he’s good at kissing, Stiles’ supposes, if kissing is something you can really be _good_ at.

He slides one hand up Stiles’ chest, curving it around his torso, and the other goes back to his neck.

If he had been tired before, he isn’t now.

Stiles becomes painfully aware that he is practically naked, and Scott is still totally clothed, and fuck if that isn’t the most unfair thing in the world. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, hasn’t really known what he’s been doing, but he does with it.

Stiles’ hands leave Scott’s waist to find the hem of his shirt, and yank up. Their mouths disconnect with a pop, long enough to toss the stupid, offending fabric elsewhere, and then they crash together once more.

\----------

Stiles is taking off his clothes, and Scott has no idea how they ended up here.

He is _mad_ at Stiles, he’s like ninety percent sure of that. But how do you tell someone to stop when they’re sucking your tongue into their mouth and undoing your belt with frantic hands, and you’re getting _hard_ \- and maybe you don’t really want them to stop.

Stiles gets his pants off, and Scott kicks them across the room with his shoes and socks. He pulls back, breathing heavy, eyes hooded. The two half naked boys stare at each for a long moment, like they don’t know where this is going, because they _don’t._ You can go forward or backward, but you can’t stand in limbo forever.

Finally, Scott says, “Fuck you,” because he _is_ still mad that Stiles thinks he just up and ditched him, that Stiles doesn’t understand why he needed to be friends with Isaac.

Instead of answering, Stiles raises an eyebrow.

Then turns his head towards the bed.

Going forward, then.

\----------

Scott _picks him up_ and throws him onto his bed, and Stiles is discovering kinks he never knew he had. Maybe Scott’s werewolf strength isn’t _all_ bad.

He isn’t given time to think, to process exactly what’s happening before it happens, but then... that’s... yep. That is Scott’s mouth. On his dick. He didn’t even realize his boxers had been removed.

Stiles moans, head rolling back and eyes slipping closed. He’s never been given a blowjob before. He’s also fairly certain that Scott has never _given_ a blowjob before, so he shouldn’t be this good at it. Shouldn’t know how to trail his tongue along the vein, how to suck the head between his lips, how to suction and sheath his teeth at the same time, the way that he is now.

Unless he’s been practicing on Isaac.

The thought sends another shot of anger into Stiles’ veins, and he leans up on his elbows, looks down at his friend between his thighs. Scott isn’t looking at him, he’s focused on what he’s doing, intent on sucking Stiles’ cock.

It feels so fucking good. Too good, though. He’s definitely done this before.

Stiles puts a hand on the back of Scott’s head and rolls his hips forward, fucking into his mouth. The motion clearly takes him by surprise, and he gags, if only for a moment, before his eyes _do_ shoot up to Stiles, narrowed and haughty and _golden._

Stiles’ lips part in surprise. His dick twitches at the sight.

Okay. So, he has a werewolf kink, then. The more you know.

The hand doesn’t leave the back of Scott’s head. His fingers curl into dark brown tendrils, grip tight, and his hips go back to rocking. He fucks Scott’s mouth, and Scott lets him. Sucks at him and licks at him and lets his teeth graze against his shaft for one _deliciously painful_ moment, that pases far too quickly.

\----------

“I’m gonna come.”

Scott pulls his head back when Stiles says this, and that very clearly wasn’t what Stiles was expecting, because he _whines_. The sight is actually surprisingly attractive, Stiles with his lower lip red and swollen from biting down on it, eyes glazed over, skin flushed, making those pathetic little noises.

“What are you do-”

Scott cuts him off by flipping him over onto his stomach. He’s nervous. He’s never done this before, never even really _thought_ about doing it before, but he knows enough to know what to do. It can’t be that much different from sex with a girl.

His fingers slide across the pale skin of Stiles’ ass, before a single digit prods at his entrance. Stiles makes a hissing noise, but it doesn’t sound entirely negative, so Scott pushes in a little further. This time the noise Stiles makes is definitely a moan.

“Do you have any lube?” Lube is one of those things that’s essentially in gay sex, right?

“Uh, no. I wasn’t exactly planning on having sex with a dude in my bedroom anytime soon.”

Scott frowns. Curls the finger inside of Stiles, bringing out another moan from his best friend.

“Who were you planning on having sex with?”

A pause. “No one.”

Scott’s eyes narrow slightly, and he doesn’t believe that, not at all, because Stiles is a _good_ liar, most of the time, but he’s shit at lying to Scott.

“Is it Lydia? You think cause Jackson ran off on her, she’s gonna fuck you now?”

Stiles looks over his shoulder, face still flushed and blissed out, but his eyes narrowed and angry. He pushes back against Scott’s finger, and barks the words, “Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

Fine, whatever.

Without lube, Scott is pretty sure that this is gonna hurt like a bitch, and as a-okay with maybe hurting Stiles _a little_ as he is, he doesn’t wanna _hurt him_ , hurt him. He considers things for a second before he just shrugs. He’s going to have his dick in him soon. This can’t really be that weird.

The finger inside of Stiles slides out slowly, Scott leans forward and wraps his hands around his hips, and then his tongue laves at the hole. Cautious and experimental, just a little grazing of his tongue.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but not this. The taste isn’t really a taste at all. It isn’t nearly as gross or as weird as he thought it was going to be. But whatever it’s doing for Stiles, it must be fucking Heaven, because his friend is keening, loudly, making these whimpering little moans that are sending jolts of electricity through Scott’s body, straight to his dick.

And Scott is pretty eager to make Stiles keep making that noise, so he goes for it. No more tentative strokes of the tongue, he _eats him out._ Nails digging hard into his hips, teeth sharp enough to graze but not slice, he fucks into Stiles with his tongue and marvels that _those sounds_ can come out of his _his friend._

If he’d only known sooner.

\----------

“Stopstopstopstopstop.”

Stiles can’t fucking take this anymore.

Scott pulls back, thankfully, when he tells him to, and Stiles whips his head around. His breathing is labored, body wound tight, because he _needs_ this. The climax of the scene (no pun intended... maybe a little intended.) He needs to feel it. And he needs to _come_ , God dammit.

“Fuck me. Please.”

Scott cocks his head to the side, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. Stiles is pretty sure that Scott thinks he won, and he’ll set the record straight on that one tomorrow, but right now Stiles doesn’t give a fuck _what_ Scott thinks, as long as he’s having sex with him. Immediately.

His breath hitches when he feels Scott’s dick pressing into him.

It burns. Of course it burns, he doesn’t know why he expected it not to. But it isn’t... bad. It’s a little bad. At first. Stiles thinks about telling Scott to stop, but he doesn’t. Scott wraps his arms around Stiles’ chest, and leans over him, mouth against his neck, and slides in slowly, and...

And after a second it doesn’t hurt as much.

Scott’s pace gets faster every few moments that pass, and finally, _finally_ he’s fucking Stiles. A constant in and out dragging burn that makes him cry up to the ceiling and push himself back, needy for it, needy to get fucked, and if that makes him some kind of cockslut, he doesn’t care. Scott seems to approve, growling low and deep against his throat, making goosebumps scatter across Stiles’ back.

The instant that Scott wraps his hand around Stiles’ dick, he comes. And that would be embarrassing if he couldn’t feel Scott coming, too, filling him up in ways that Stiles had never even considered. It’s dirty. It’s weird. It feels so fucking good.

They collapse into each other, sticky, and messy, and sated.

\----------

They don’t sleep at all that night; the tradition continues. 


End file.
